


Touching Fantasy

by vega_voices



Series: Come Rain, Come Shine [25]
Category: Murphy Brown (TV)
Genre: F/M, Idiots in Love, PWP, Smut, idiots to lovers, smut for smut sake, these two idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 17:18:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18579016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: Did he tell her about the benefit dinner and how perfect she’d felt in his arms and how he’d actually driven by her house that night because he couldn’t shed the image of helping her off with that damn dress and sinking into her over and over and over again?





	Touching Fantasy

**Title:** Touching Fantasy  
**Author:** vegawriters  
**Fandom:** Murphy Brown  
**Series:** Come Rain, Come Shine  
**Pairing:** Murphy Brown/Peter Hunt  
**Rating:** Oh this one is for adults only, kiddos. Check your ID before clicking.  
**Timeframe:** Season 6, post Just Like Riding a Bike  
**A/N:** These two idiots …  
**Disclaimer:** Everything is owned and operated by Bend in the Road Productions and Warner Bros. I’m just playing with them. You know, the way they should have been played with.

 **Summary:** _Did he tell her about the benefit dinner and how perfect she’d felt in his arms and how he’d actually driven by her house that night because he couldn’t shed the image of helping her off with that damn dress and sinking into her over and over and over again?_

Peter had known, since before he kissed Murphy, that she’d be great in the sack. Confident women knew themselves and women who knew themselves were not embarrassed about needs or wants in the bedroom. He’d known when he kissed her that day, the sex would be great. He’d known when the kiss turned into a marathon in her office, with his hand moving up her skirt and fingering her through her hose while she worked his neck with her mouth, that they would be fire together. He’d known all of this but still hadn’t been prepared for how she had taken him in her body that first night. Riding him, ever so slowly, with her hands pressed to his chest, her knees squeezing him, their eyes locked while their bodies danced, she’d taken him right over the line from suave lover to hopeless romantic.

Every fantasy he’d ever dared himself to have paled in comparison to the real thing. Still, images of her mouth, her eyes, the peak of her collarbone and the dusky rose of her nipples, always came at him in full cinematic glory while he tossed and turned in his bunk at night, in far too close quarters to the other men to find any hope of release. Showers were his only solitude, and the chill of the water did little for his physical comfort. Flights home to DC were agony.

God, he missed her. And the now-awakened romantic in him wanted every encounter to be perfect. So, when she stood there in the doorway to his studio apartment, early for a date he was supposed to pick her up for, he panicked. She’d never been inside his cramped space. All he’d needed for years was a crash pad, a place to pile his boxes of notes. For years, the physical side of his life had been lived on the road. This wasn’t a place for wooing. The futon was barely functional and he used the microwave more than the stove. Which, to be fair, she did too. But her townhouse was a palace compared to his and he balked.

Murphy didn’t. She smirked at him, stepped inside the apartment, and much like she had a few weeks ago when he’d surprised her in her office, clicked the lock.

“I thought we had plans for seven,” he teased, forgetting his worries about his place.

“You’ve got the plane out of your hair?”

“Yes.”

“Then shut up and kiss me.”

An order he was more than happy to oblige.

The disaster of his apartment fell to the wayside as she wrapped her arms around him and Peter realized very quickly that she had no intention of meeting their reservation for the night. He fell back to the futon, reaching for her, but she stepped back, unbuttoning her casual blouse slowly. It rested open, framing her bare breasts, and he reached for her, bringing her to stand between his knees.

“I hope you ate,” he teased.

“I hope you plan to,” she retorted.

He reached for the button on her jeans and tugged them down her legs while she stepped out of her shoes. The scrap of lace she called underwear taunted him and he slid his fingers up her thighs and toyed with the edge.

“You’re overdressed, Peter.”

The domineering part of him loved being fully clothed in her nearly naked presence, but he wasn’t about to turn down the chance to be naked next to his goddess. And, his throbbing cock ached to be free of his jeans. So, he stood and let her unbutton him, groaning as she slipped her hand inside his boxers and stroked him.

“Missed me?” She teased.

“You have no idea,” he moaned.

Undressing was always awkward - shucking shoes and socks and tripping over jeans as they fell back onto his futon. Murphy laughed when his foot got stuck in his jeans. Peter kicked the offending clothes away and turned to her, realizing she was still in those barely-there lace panties and everything stopped.

“Touch yourself,” he said as he stretched out next to her on the futon. His fingertips lingered on her nipples, teasing with the lightest of touches. “Leave the lace on and touch yourself.”

He watched the blush race across her skin and quickly realized this wasn’t something she was used to doing with others around. Peter pressed his mouth to her neck before running his fingers down to link with hers. He brought them to his lips and sucked one into his mouth before moving back to her ear. “Touch yourself for me, Murphy. Let me see what you do when I’m not here.”

“Peter …”

It was half protest, half moan. She arched into his touch, seeking him, but he wanted to watch. He wanted to see those long fingers slide under the cream lace. He wanted the image cemented in his mind for the next time he found a quiet corner to write back everything he wanted to do to her when they were together again.

“I imagine you,” he murmured, his mouth at her ear. He nipped her ear lobe before rising up on one elbow to meet her eyes. “I imagine you opening a letter I’ve sent …” his fingertips tweaked her nipple. She whimpered. “Where do you read them, Murphy? In your office? At home? In the tub?”

“Yes …” she moaned. Her hand joined his on her breast and he let her be the guide across the sensitive flesh. She was still blushing but her hand left his and trailed down her stomach and Peter groaned as she slid her fingers between the lace and her pubic hair. He was hard and wanted to just rip the panties off and drive into her, but he breathed, thinking of the words in the letter he hadn’t yet sent.

“Just today in the shower,” he murmured, “I had my hand around my cock and I was thinking of you riding me. Coming into my old office at FYI and pushing me down into my chair and you just lifting your skirt …”

She met his eyes and grinned and he knew they’d moved past one of the first barriers of embarrassment for these moments. “How often was that your fantasy?” She asked. “Before you kissed me that is.”

“More than I want to admit.”

“So you’d be there across the hall, pants unzipped …”

Her back arched and he moved his hand down to cover hers through the lace. Heat radiated between her damp thighs and he could tell she had one finger just barely inside her body.

“Once,” he admitted, his mouth moving to her neck again. “Once it was late and I was in the office alone and I hated myself for it. But you looked so good that day and I …”

He felt her finger push deeper inside.

“When was it?” She asked. His fingers felt hers move and she pressed her thumb to her clit. Peter’s hips shoved forward of their own volition. This had either been a fantastic idea or he was going to embarrass himself all over her. She’d taken this moment and made it all about her and she was too smart for him. God.

“After the town hall,” he admitted. “The day after, you came to the office in these black pants and this blue sweater that highlighted your eyes and I’d never looked for an assignment so quickly because I didn’t want to make an ass of myself.”

She chuckled. “So instead you went in your office, closed the door, and jacked off?” He felt a second finger join the first. His self-control slipped and he moved his hand inside her panties and linked their fingers, stroking her while she stroked herself.

“I wanted you to find me. I wanted you to climb on top of me,” he admitted. She shivered and he felt her body clench. “Not yet. Don’t come yet.” She gasped.

“Was that the first time you fantasized about me?” She murmured as his fingers pushed just below her clit.

“No.” Did he dare tell her about how he’d gone home after that first show and barely made it into the shower before he had his cock in his hand and visions of her under him dancing in his mind? “It wasn’t the last, either.” Did he tell her about the benefit dinner and how perfect she’d felt in his arms and how he’d actually driven by her house that night because he couldn’t shed the image of helping her off with that damn dress and sinking into her over and over and over again?

She gasped his name again and he felt her body arching up against his, seeking, and Peter leaned in and nipped her neck right where she liked it. “Let go,” he murmured.

Murphy shattered in his arms, crying his name as her body spasmed around her fingers. It took every ounce of self control and a mental image of Miles naked to keep him from coming along with her. Instead, he wrapped her in his arms and held her as she slowed her trembling.

“Fuck …” she whispered as she regained her breath. “That was intense.” Their eyes met. “You okay?”

He offered a half-tortured smile and she laughed and took his hand, guiding it down to his cock. “Your turn,” she said.

God, this woman was going to kill him.

“Remember the benefit dinner?” She asked.

“How could I forget …” Peter wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked, praying that Murphy’s body would recover enough so he could plunge himself into her and explode.

“Tell me what you wanted to do to me that night,” she taunted.

Peter opened his eyes, took his hand from hers, and rolled her so she was under him. “I’ll show you,” he said, his mouth on her collarbone. “Because I wanted to get you just like this,” he said. “I wanted you naked and panting and wet and all mine.” He kissed his way down her body until he was on his knees off the side of the futon. He pulled her panties down her legs and pressed his face to them before tossing the ruined fabric aside. “All of those men were looking at you, dancing with you, and I wanted you all to myself. I wanted to finish that dance right here,” he opened her legs and pressed his mouth to the juncture of her thighs.

Murphy let out a cry and tangled her fingers in his hair, pressing her hips toward his face. God, he could drown here and die a happy, happy man. He slid his tongue into her, dancing along the edge of her opening, and he felt her body arch above him. Peter pulled back, her legs over his shoulders, and watched her grip the bedclothes with one hand while her other tugged on an already taught nipple. “Get up here …” she growled. Peter complied, reaching at the last moment for the cluttered nightstand and one of the condoms in the drawer. Murphy watched him through hooded eyes as he rolled the latex on and added a touch of lube, just to make it last. She whimpered and he gave in, pulling her body back to him and pressing at her core. Murphy reached between them to help guide him into her body and they didn’t say another word until she cursed his name and he followed suit with a string of prayers to a deity he had started to believe in again.

It took a long minute before either of them moved. Murphy pushed at him a bit, groaning, and Peter pulled back. She stretched, looking down at her body, and chuckled. “Bathroom?” He pointed to the door next to the closet.

While she was gone, Peter fixed the sheets and found a clean pair of boxers for her to wear. He had just long enough to grumble at the state of his place. This wasn’t how he really expected to present himself to Murphy.

“You know,” her voice startled him. “This reminds me of my place before I bought the townhouse.”

“Why have the space when you won’t be home?” He hoped she understood.

“Exactly.”

Peter handed her the boxers, which she took with a smile, and then disappeared back into the bathroom to clean up a bit for himself. He emerged to find her flipped through one of his folders and wasn’t sure if he should snark at her for snooping or wait for her compliment. He did good work. Murphy glanced up at him and closed the folder.

“Story is a dud,” he teased. “If you want to take it, you can run into brick walls for two years.”

“Who do you think dropped it a year ago?”

Peter laughed and joined her on the futon. He was still naked, and even being near her caused his body to stir. Would this ever fade? He hoped not.

“You really fantasized about me in your office?” Murphy looked over her shoulder at him and he was stunned at the vulnerability in her eyes.

“My office …” he trailed a fingertip down her back. “My shower. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I hated myself for it because I was sure I hated you and I was even more sure you hated me. And when I went to Serbia, I really hoped I’d shaken you. I didn’t want to feel this way.”

“Why not?”

Again, vulnerability. He leaned close and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Because what if I wanted to stay? But worse, what if you didn’t want me to?”

He felt her intake of breath and shared her nerves. The walls they both hid behind were shaking just slightly in their foundations.

“I wanted you to take me home that night … the benefit dinner …” she admitted. “And I hated myself for it.”

Peter rested his hand on her ass before rolling them, pressing onto her. She opened her legs and welcomed him and he groaned as his body went from merely stirring to standing again at attention. “What did you do? Hmm?”

“What do you think?” She chuckled, but one leg drew up over his hip and she pressed herself to him. Peter groaned and leaned in for a kiss, long and lingering, losing himself in the moment of gentle caresses. “If I’d been smart,” she said when she pulled back for air, “I’d have invited you into my bed that night in Israel.”

“I wanted to be there …” he pushed his hips to hers before reaching over for a condom and the lube. Murphy took them and sat up, breaking the connection to slide out of the shorts she’d so recently donned. Peter adjusted so she could slide onto his lap after rolling the condom down his length.

“We’re here now,” she murmured as she poised above him.

In these moments, Peter was always stunned at how tender and romantic she could be. The woman behind the mask was so much more than who she projected to the world. Slowly, she slid onto him, working their bodies together, and Peter pushed up, meeting her. Murphy met his eyes.

“Tell me,” she said, gasping as his hand, found her breast. “Tell me what you thought about that night.”

“I wanted to stand there with you,” Peter murmured, watching her as she stilled, his cock still deep inside of her. “And unzip that dress slowly. So slowly. And kiss my way down your spine until the dress fell to the floor and you stepped out. I wanted to press my mouth to you, inhale your scent…”

“You love that, don’t you.”

“Murphy, if you’d let me die with my face between your thighs, I’d die happy.”

Her laugh broke the romantic mood and Peter took advantage of the moment to flip them, repositioning her on her back, with one leg over his shoulder. She gasped, rising to meet him as he filled her again, thrusting. Her nails dug crescents into his biceps, spurring him on, until he came, hard, clutching her to him. He knew she was still aching, but he needed just a moment to catch his breath before pulling back and settling next to her. He took her hand, linked their fingers, and together they worked her until she was gasping her climax.

“God …” she groaned. “I do miss you when you’re gone.”

“That’s good to know.” He kissed her. “You need …”

“Yeah …” she sighed and scooted off the bed. “Order dinner. I’ll be right back.” At the bathroom door she paused. “Actually … why don’t you join me. You’re a mess too.”

He smirked. “Sure.”

“Give me just a minute.”

Peter waited until he heard the shower kick on. In the bathroom, he stepped into the small space with Murphy, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her all over again.

They’d worry about food later.


End file.
